


Teach

by Gemmiel



Series: Touch Me [5]
Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bittersweet Ending, Bottom!Haru, First Time, Love Confession, M/M, Oral Sex, There will be a sequel, first person POV, makoharu - Freeform, more angst than I originally planned, top!Makoto, touch me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto and Haru have embarked upon a physical relationship, and Makoto is a little taken aback by how much he's enjoying it. A sequel to my story "Touch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to my story "Touch." I think it stands alone okay, but you still might prefer to read the other first.
> 
> Feedback is deeply cherished!

My name is Tachibana Makoto, and I am a pervert.

I used to be a nice boy. That's what everyone in my hometown called me, anyway. I heard it every single day: _There goes that Nice Boy, Makoto-kun._ I mean, you could totally hear the capital letters. I wasn't just a decent sort of guy; I was like the officially designated Nice Boy of Iwatobi.

But I guess things kind of changed recently, when my best friend Haru and I got together.

I _think_ we're together, anyway. I mean, we're doing stuff together that best friends don't ordinarily do, if you know what I mean. Like kissing. Well, okay, more than just kissing. Kissing and... stuff. We've been sharing an apartment since we came to Tokyo for college, and one night I was giving Haru a massage because he was sore, and things just sort of... happened. And ever since then...

Here's the thing. The truth is that I've been in love with Nanase Haruka since, um, well, forever, really. I think I realized I was in love with him when I was fourteen, but I'm pretty sure I was in love with him long before that. And I won't lie, I used to think about being with him all the time. I mean, I'd sit there in class and daydream and think about kissing him. I thought about that constantly-- the way Haru's lips might feel against mine, the way he'd slide his arms around my neck, the way I'd wrap my arms around his waist and lift him right off the ground, the way people do in the movies.

Those were great daydreams. But when Haru and I got together and kissed (and did some other stuff), I stopped fantasizing about just kissing him all the time. I don't mean that I don't like kissing Haru. I like it a lot. In fact I could do it all day and not get tired of it. It's better than I ever imagined, to be perfectly honest. 

But now that all this stuff has happened between us, I keep thinking about... other stuff.

I still think about kissing Haru, don't get me wrong. But usually after I think about kissing him, I think about doing other things to him. And lately the thing I keep thinking about is--

Ugh, this is embarrassing. I mean, this isn't a Nice Boy kind of thing. But the truth is that I keep thinking about picking him up, shoving him against a wall, and kissing him _hard._ I imagine him wrapping his legs around my hips and his arms around my neck. And then... well...

I'm a pervert. That's all there is to it.

I mean, I'm not stupid. I know people think about the stuff they want to do with the people they love. That's normal, right? But what I just don't get is why I went from imagining romantic stuff, like picking Haru up and spinning him around, or sharing sweet kisses with him, or holding hands in the movie theater, to constantly thinking about pushing him around a little. Not to mention ripping off all his clothes and--

Anyway. The problem is that the things I'm thinking about all the time these days are not romantic. And my feelings for Haru are _definitely_ romantic. I mean, it's not just a sex thing between us, you know? I love him like crazy, and even though I'm not sure if he loves me back exactly that way, we're really close and always have been. So why the heck do I keep thinking about him that way? It's like my brain's gotten tuned into a 24-hour porn channel, and no matter how hard I try, I can't turn it off. 

And it's not just in my head, either. I mean, while we were doing... stuff... I bit him. I actually _bit_ him, right on his shoulder. And when he complained I was going to leave a mark, I said, _Good. Then everyone will know you're mine._

Who _says_ stuff like that? Who bites people they're in love with, for God's sake?

Perverts, that's who.

It bugs me, because Haru deserves better. I mean, he's the best thing in my life, past, present, and future, and he deserves all the love and respect and adoration I can give him. He doesn't deserve me thinking about him like some kind of sex object. Sure, he's incredibly gorgeous, with these delicate features and glossy black hair and glimmering blue eyes that can look right into your soul. Not to mention a slim, muscular, awesomely graceful body that cuts through the water like a knife when he swims. 

But he's so much more than the physical, you know? He's-- he's-- well, he's Haru.

Haru is my best friend since childhood, and the guy I love, and I really need to stop thinking about him like I'm a dog and he's a steak dinner. It's not right.

It's just not.

*****

When I get home, it's late. It's Saturday, and Haru had swim practice, but he should be done by now. I didn't have classes, of course, but I had a huge group project to finish up. It's late and I ought to be tired, but I've been thinking about last night the whole way home, the way Haru and I wound up rolling around on the living room floor, with him beneath me, naked and panting and totally at my mercy...

See, that's the kind of thinking I'm trying to root out. Some weird, primitive part of my brain keeps wanting to hold Haru down, to _restrain_ him, and that's not how things have ever been between us. It's not how things ought to be. Haru might be a little smaller than I am, a few inches shorter and quite a few pounds lighter, but that doesn't mean he's like, you know, _subservient_ to me. It doesn't mean I get to shove him into walls or... or handcuff him, or whatever.

I try very hard to get the image of a handcuffed Haru out of my head, then take off my shoes and leave them at the front door. The apartment is dark and quiet, and I wonder if Haru's home yet. I did text him that he should eat, since it's well past dinnertime, and I got something while I was out. Maybe he went out too.

Or maybe he's in the bathtub again. That would hardly be surprising. At one point, after his parents left Iwatobi and his grandmother died, he practically lived in his tub. He's gotten better about it, but he still can spend hours in there when he's feeling stressed or confused or upset. I check the bathroom, but it's dark and the tub is empty. He's not in his bedroom, either.

I sigh, accepting that he just hasn't come home yet. I'm tempted to text him, just so I know when he'll be here, but then again that might make me a little too much like a possessive boyfriend. He's probably just swimming extra laps or working on a paper where he won't get distracted or grabbing a bite to eat or something. And it's not like he belongs to me, really, no matter how many marks I leave on his shoulders.

I wander into my bedroom, thinking I might change into more comfortable clothes. And then I come to a confused halt, because the bedroom isn't quite as dark as I thought it was. It's lit by a flickering, wavering light. Candles. I can smell their fragrance (vanilla, I think) scenting the air, and as my eyes adjust I see there's someone sprawled on the bed, on top of the comforter.

It's Haru, and he's completely naked.

Abruptly I feel really dizzy. It's like all the blood just drained away from my head and went straight to my-- 

Um. Anyway. I can't help staring at Haru's body (which is really incredibly spectacularly sexy), and I notice that he's already sort of, you know, interested. I wonder if maybe he's just having a really nice dream, but when I look up (which is not exactly easy to do), I see that he's definitely awake. His eyes, which are ordinarily bright blue, look dark and mysterious by candlelight, and he's staring right at me. 

"Hey, Makoto," he says, his voice low and soft. "I've been waiting for you."

"Unhh," I answer, less than brilliantly. "Hi."

Even in the dim lighting I can see the slight curve of his mouth. He's obviously amused by his ability to reduce me to one-word sentences. (Personally, I thought I was doing well managing to say that much.) I can't help wondering if I'm just having a really intense daydream. One where Haru is all spread out on the bed, and maybe tied to the headboard, waiting for me to--

I push that thought away. Haru isn't tied down, and he's _not_ at my mercy, damn it. And besides, our relationship is not just about sex anyway. I should probably sit down on the bed, ask him how swim practice went, talk to him about what he had for dinner...

My brain is sincerely and seriously contemplating how a good boyfriend should behave in this situation, but my body has other ideas. I'm stripping off my shirt and unbuttoning my jeans before I even know what I'm about. And then I'm crawling into bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and I'm straddling Haru's thighs and my hands are closing around his biceps, holding him fast.

My mouth finds his throat, and I can't stop myself from kissing the fragile skin there, murmuring his name between kisses. I have Haru pinned, despite all my good resolutions, and that simple fact makes heat unfurl in my veins and pool in my lower belly. My heart is pounding like I haven't been with him in months, and I can barely breathe. I'm already very... interested. So interested it almost hurts.

He tilts his head back, letting me kiss his throat, and addresses his next remark to the headboard. "I bought candles."

"I noticed," I answer, although the words are muffled because I can't bear to move my lips away from his hot skin. Obviously he showered after practice, because his usual faint aura of chlorine has been replaced by a clean scent of lemons and oranges. I let myself nip the tender skin of his shoulder, even though I told myself I wouldn't do that again, and he moans softly, then addresses himself to the headboard again.

"I thought about buying lube too."

I choke on air. "Haru!"

I don't have to see his face to know he's amused by my reaction. Anyone else might laugh, but Haru almost never laughs-- he just sort of radiates quiet amusement. "I thought about it," he says, "but I decided I'm not quite ready yet. First, I want to know what you taste like."

"Haru." My cheeks are suddenly very, very hot, and I bury my face against his throat. "God, Haru-chan. You can't just blurt out stuff like that."

"Why not?"

"Because... because..." My brain seems to have gone offline, and I can't come up with a good answer. I resort to whining. "Haruuuu. You're going to kill me."

"I don't think so," he says in a very serious tone. I can hear humor lurking beneath the surface of his voice, though I doubt anyone else could tell. "But you might pass out for a while."

" _Haru._ " It's a strange thing-- I'm on top of him and I have him pinned, and yet somehow I feel like the one who's helpless, all of a sudden. I don't know how he does that to me. With Haru, I never really know for sure who's in charge. He can make me weak when I least expect it.

Even so, I kind of like the illusion of having power over him, the feel of his slender body pinned under mine, the way he lets me kiss and bite and touch him. The way he'd probably let me do other stuff to him, if I managed to get the nerve up. 

But I'm not going to do that stuff to him, I decide, recalling my resolution to treat him with all the love and respect he deserves. I remind myself that my feelings for Haru have to do with romance, not sex. Lifting my head, I brush a very gentle kiss over his lips.

It's sweet. It's romantic. It's really, really nice. 

But _nice_ isn't what I want right now.

Apparently it's not what Haru wants, either. He makes a frustrated noise, and his body arches up against mine.

And just like that, all my good intentions go straight out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't totally happy with my story "Touch." Makoto felt to me like he was seesawing back and forth too much-- a shy teenager in one scene, a dominant guy in the next. The problem was that the story was told from Haru's point of view, so that we couldn't really see what was going on in Makoto's head, or understand why he was reacting the way he was.
> 
> I tend to headcanon Makoto as growing up to be a dominant sort of guy. But as a young man in Free! he's obviously still shy, awkward, and probably not the type of person who would readily embrace his physical side. I could easily imagine him feeling that some of his impulses were embarrassing at best and possibly perverse at worst, and decided to write a story that dealt with this more directly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments and the kudos! I really appreciate them!
> 
> Sorry for the delay; this chapter took slightly longer to write than I expected. It's surprisingly hard to write a sex scene from the viewpoint of a character who modestly refuses to use certain words!

When I was a little kid, I was scared to death of the water.

It wasn't just the ocean. When I looked into the pool on a sunny day, I could see shifting shadows in the blue depths of the water. The sunlight played on the water somehow to create shapes that were bizarrely, inexplicably terrifying. I didn't know exactly what the shapes were; I only knew they scared me.

I'm grown up now, and shadows in the water don't frighten me. But I still get that same feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about my relationship with Haru. It's a lot like the shadows, in a way.

I mean, I don't know exactly what this thing between me and Haru is. I can't define it or put a name to it. Of course I know I love him. But I feel other things for him, too, things that aren't as easily labeled as love. Haru's like the sunlight glancing off the water, bright and beautiful and dazzling. But when I look into myself I've found myself seeing strange, shifting shadows I don't like that much. It makes me feel vulnerable, like there are things in the depths, tendrils that might wrap around us and drag us both down if I'm not careful.

Part of me wants to stop being careful. To just swim into the depths and let the shadows drag me down if they want.

But another part of me is terrified of what might happen to me if I let myself go and dive in.

*****

Anyway, right now I'm trying to keep myself from losing control, but it's really... hard. Um, pardon the pun. But I mean, Haru is obviously not into the light, soft kisses I was trying to give him, and he's making it clear that he wants more. A lot more. His body is arching up against mine, and his legs are wrapping around my hips, and it's just--

I'm lost before I know it, kissing him more deeply, so that my tongue slides into his mouth and touches his. It's weird how much I love kissing him that way. It's almost painfully intimate, and sometimes I wonder how I've survived all these years without it.

Haru seems to like it too, if the little _mmmm_ sounds he makes are any indication. I let go of his wrists, bracing my forearms on the mattress so I don't smash him. His hands come up and tangle in my hair, and before I can stop myself I'm moaning into his mouth, too.

He sort of winds himself around me, so that our bodies press together from hips to shoulders. He feels hot against my bare skin, almost feverish, and his spine flexes in the way that only a swimmer can manage, so that his hips kind of roll against mine. My hands clench the sheets, because it feels incredible and I'm already so close to losing it I can't stand it.

I honestly don't know how he does this to me. I haven't even gotten my boxers off yet. How can I be this turned on?

He rolls his hips against me again, and I give a long, shuddering moan, the kind of sound that would embarrass the hell out of me at any other time. On some level I _am_ embarrassed, but most of me just does not care. I don't even care if I manage to get my boxers off, honestly. I just _want._

That's the thing about Haru. He makes me want and want and want. I never thought I was the kind of person who would want this so much. I always thought I'd be much more interested in the other person's pleasure than my own. And it does matter to me that Haru is happy, trust me. It matters an awful lot.

I guess I just didn't realize how strong my need for him would be. It's demanding and greedy and a little selfish, and it kind of grips me by my gut and doesn't let go until it gets what it wants. And that freaks me out more than a little.

Haru's hands trail down my back, leaving fire in their wake, making my skin tingle. And then his fingers are carefully divesting me of my underwear, shoving them down so I can kick them off. My boxers wind up discarded on the carpet somewhere, or maybe shoved down between the bed and the wall. I don't really care where they wound up, so long as they're not on me. So long as they're not between me and Haru.

We're both naked again, and I'm already panting and sweating and trembling, just thinking about pressing against him. I remember what we did last time, our bodies rubbing together, my hand wrapped around us both, and the anticipation is so sharp I can hardly breathe. I lean into him again--

"Makoto," he says, his voice a bare whisper. "I told you earlier. I want to taste you."

A shudder runs through me. He can't possibly mean what I think he does. I mean, now? Right now? I'm already really worked up. I can't possibly hold myself back enough to--

But he's pushing me off, rolling me onto my back, and leaning over me, and I-- I don't fight him. I can't. Because his lips are trailing over my chest, down my stomach, and then--

His mouth brushes against me, right, you know, _there,_ and it's soft and gentle, like the sweet, romantic kiss I was trying to give him earlier. But this isn't sweet or romantic. It's hot as hell. I can feel fire where his lips touch me, and I give a kind of helpless shudder and collapse back against the mattress. 

He kisses me, very carefully, up and down, and I can hear myself gasping for breath. Between gasps I say his name like a prayer, _Haruchanharuchanharuchan._ My back arches and my muscles all tighten, like I'm launching myself away from the wall at the start of a race.

And then he's brushing his tongue over me, and oh God it's hot and soft and so incredible, and the only thing I can do is lift my hands to his head and dig my fingers into his hair, whimpering with pleasure.

His voice is very soft. "Is that good, Mako-chan?"

It's a ridiculous question. Obviously I'm not clutching his hair and sobbing for breath just for the heck of it. But I manage to gasp out a reply, something along the lines of _yesyesyesdon'tstopHaru,_ and he gives the soft little huff that's his version of a laugh. And then his tongue goes back to work, trailing up and down until I am absolutely losing my mind.

For some reason I think of the shadows in the water, lurking there inside me, waiting to drag me down. Part of me wants to let it happen, to be dragged down and let myself drown in this. But the other part of me is still fighting to stay afloat.

"Haru," I say, "I guess you better stop now."

At least that's what I mean to say. But before I can say more than his name, his tongue finds my most sensitive spot and starts tracing these little circles, and my ability to speak coherently instantly boils away. I'm more than a little embarrassed, because I know I'm leaking, you know, gunk, and it can't possibly taste good. But his tongue doesn't stop, and then he's _licking it away,_ and my whole body jerks convulsively. 

" _Haru!_ "

He doesn't stop. His hand wraps around my, uh-- I mean, he wraps his fingers around me, pulling me toward him, and his tongue is soft and gentle and demanding, and I know I can't take much more of this.

Part of me desperately wants him to keep going, and part of me is afraid I'm going to-- to-- well, it's all going to go all over his face and in his hair, and I don't know whether the thought is embarrassing or incredibly hot. Maybe it's both. But either way, it does absolutely nothing to help cool me off.

My fingers tighten in his hair. I'm not sure if I'm trying to make him stop, or trying to make sure he _can't_ stop. I still _want,_ so much. More than ever before, if I'm going to be honest about it. This is so strangely intimate that it takes my breath away, and the thought of him stopping makes my chest hurt.

His tongue slides over me relentlessly, and in a sudden vivid flash of memory I remember the way he used to lick at the blue popsicles we always shared in Iwatobi. Somewhere in high school I started watching him eat popsicles out of the corner of my eye, avidly observing the way his pink tongue licked up the little dribbles as the ice melted in the summer heat. I remember that watching him that way always made my stomach twist and my heart pound.

But the memory is nothing next to the intensity of this. I'm twitching with each stroke of his tongue, practically gushing moisture, and everything around us is fading away. I don't smell vanilla or see the flickering candlelight or feel the soft mattress beneath me. All I'm aware of is Haru, the silk of his hair running through my fingers and the feel of his tongue against me and the soft little noises of pleasure he's making, like this feels as good for him as it does for me.

And then his lips fasten over me, and he's drawing me into his warm, wet mouth, and a pleasure too intense to bear ignites inside me. And all of a sudden I feel myself sinking into the shadows beneath the water, and I don't care if they drag me down and I never come up again. For Haru, I'm totally willing to drown.

I drop my hands away from his beautiful black hair, because I'm honestly afraid I might start pulling out handfuls if I'm not careful, and fist the sheets instead. I'm panting the way I do after a long race, trembling all over, and my spine arches like bamboo in the wind. I know I'm shoving my way further into his mouth, and I don't want to choke him or hurt him, but I can't seem to help myself somehow. My voice lifts.

"Ahhhhh, Haru-chan!"

It feels unimaginably good, but on some level I'm still not totally comfortable with this. Last night, we came together, and it felt beautiful and sacred and so profound that we both cried afterwards. This isn't like last night, somehow. It feels kind of raw, like it's just about getting off, and I'm not sure that's okay. I mean, is it okay to have sex just for sex's sake when it's your boyfriend? Isn't it always supposed to be a beautiful, almost religious experience?

My hips are jerking now, without any input from my brain, thrusting upward, and Haru drops a surprisingly heavy forearm over my lower abdomen to hold me down, to prevent me from inadvertently choking him. I can't move, can't do anything but give in to this, surrender to Haru's hot mouth wrapped around me.

I don't really mind. I hear myself crying out, long, helpless sounds of pleasure, and my body tenses, and--

Haru stops.

My eyes snap open. All my muscles are taut, and I'm so close I'm shaking. I need-- I need--

"Haru," I say, and my voice sounds low and hoarse and not like me at all. The word sounds almost like a warning.

Haru sits up, straddling my thighs. His eyes are so bright I can practically see them glowing in the dim candlelight. His hair is standing on end (thanks to me yanking on it, probably) and his lips are parted. I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants. The expression on his face is almost rapturous, the way it is when he's swimming, and I realize he's been enjoying this a whole lot. Having that in your mouth doesn't seem like something anyone would really care for, but his expression makes it clear that he definitely likes it.

For a moment, I don't quite get it. Why does he look that way, when I'm the one that's been having all the fun? But then I remember being in the bathtub with him, holding him motionless while I stroked him, until finally he shuddered and threw his head back and called my name out in frantic gasps. And suddenly I understand how he feels.

"Haru," I say again, a little more gently this time, reaching for him.

He rocks back on his heels, evading my hands. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Is there something that you want, Tachibana?"

He reminds me of a blue-eyed little kitten that wants to play. I mean, he has that kind of look on his face, like this is a game, like it's _fun._ I feel myself grinning in response, and then I'm lunging upward, grabbing him, and tossing him right onto his back again. We wrestle a lot, and I'm bigger and stronger than he is, so it's not that hard for me to get the upper hand.

Or maybe he just _wants_ me to have the upper hand now.

Anyway, I'm on top of him, and he's pinned beneath me. I've totally forgotten that I was trying to force myself to stop thinking about having him at my mercy, that I had decided to always treat him with love and respect and tenderness. I've forgotten that sex between us is supposed to be sacred and gentle and sweet. He's gotten me way too worked up for me to remember any of it.

I'm on top of him, and I _like_ it. I capture his wrists in my hands, press them back against the mattress, and grin wider than before.

"You're mine, Nanase," I say triumphantly.

He gazes up at me. His eyes are brighter than ever.

"Yes, Mako-chan," he agrees in a soft voice. "I'm yours."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay-- it's always hard to find writing time on the weekend. There is no plot in this chapter, I'm afraid, merely smut. We'll take a break from the smut in the next chapter, though!

Even though I'm afraid of the water, drowning wasn't as scary as I thought it would be.

See, the year we started up the swim club, we did a training camp on an island and spent several days swimming in the ocean. Our friend Rei, who was still a pretty new swimmer at that point, went out to train by himself the first night, and a storm came up unexpectedly. I heard him calling for help, and ran onto the beach to see him fighting desperately to keep his head above water. I dove into the big waves and swam out to save him, but somewhere along the line I...

Well, I freaked out.

I don't have any idea when I started sinking below the waves and breathing in water instead of air. All I remember is coming to on the beach, Haru staring at me with huge blue eyes as I gagged out the water I'd inhaled, and struggled to get used to breathing air again. It should've been the scariest moment of my life, but the truth is I don't even remember it.

My relationship with Haru isn't that different. At some point I sank underwater and fell totally and irrevocably in love with him, but I couldn't begin to tell you exactly when. And now I'm drowning in something else, something that's different from love, but just as powerful. Something that's as dark and deep as the ocean. I still love Haru, of course-- that's something that won't ever change-- but I have all these new feelings to contend with, too, and right now it feels like they're closing over my head.

But for some reason, I don't really want to start breathing air again. If I'm going to be totally honest about it... I kind of like drowning in whatever this is.

*****

I have Haru at my mercy now, and I love it. But here's the problem: when you're holding someone's wrists in your hands, you can't do much in the way of touching them. And what I really want right now is to explore every inch of Haru's body, to run my hands all over his hot skin.

I remember my thoughts about handcuffing him, but I shrug that off, because I (sadly) don't have a pair of handcuffs. I don't even have anything I could use to tie him to the headboard. I blush, because I am thinking seriously about _tying Haru down,_ and that's just so not me.

Only it is, kind of. I don't understand what's happening to me. Like I said, I was always a nice guy. And nice guys don't tie people to headboards. Do they?

I guess I paused while I was thinking about all this, because Haru shifts restlessly beneath me, wrapping a leg around my thighs and trying to tug me down.

"I thought I was yours," he says, his eyes bright with what looks like challenge. "Or are you all talk and no action, Tachibana?"

We have never in our lives called each other by our family names, since we've known each other practically since babyhood, and the sound of him calling me that, like I'm a rival or a stranger, does something weird to my insides. I think about what I want for a moment, then shove his hands toward the headboard, which is one of those wrought-iron kind of things. My mom picked it out for me when I moved because she thought it was pretty. I'm fairly sure it never occurred to her that I might use it for weird sex. The thought makes me blush again, but I shove all thoughts of Mom and Iwatobi away firmly, and focus on Haru.

"Hold onto that," I say, "and don't let go."

He lifts an eyebrow like he's surprised, but his hands close on the iron obediently enough. (Did I just use the word _obediently?_ Seriously? What the _hell_ is wrong with me?) I sit up, folding my legs under me and sitting on my heels. That makes it kind of obvious I'm still interested, I guess, and his eyes sort of focus on my, uh... well, anyway, he looks kind of round-eyed.

"See something you like?"

Geez. I did not just say that, let alone say it in that low, deep growl. I mean, that could not possibly have been me. Except it was. I'm honestly starting to think I've been possessed by a sex demon or something. 

His eyes get rounder, and his lips part like he's thinking about, you know, what he was just doing to me. I'm _definitely_ thinking about it. I mean, it's not the kind of thing I'm likely to forget. I'll probably still be thinking about it when I'm ninety.

"God, Makoto." His voice is an awed whisper. "You're huge."

Instantly I'm about five times harder than before. He's done this to me before, with all that _you're beautiful_ crap. I know I'm not particularly good-looking, but hearing him tell me that I was beautiful over and over again made me absolutely crazy. And part of what drove me so crazy was that on some level I actually felt like he really meant it. The way his voice sounded-- he just sounded so sincere, so honest. Like to him, I really was beautiful.

He sounds like that now, like he's genuinely awestruck by my, um, anatomy. I'm pretty sure I'm not that much bigger than anyone else, but to be fair he probably hasn't seen a lot of _anatomies_ up close. I mean, sure, we've both spent half our lives in locker rooms, but this is a little different. Or a lot different, I guess. 

Anyway, he's staring at me now the way he stares at the ocean in summer, right before he jumps into the waves and disappears beneath the surface, and the unmistakable yearning in his eyes makes me ache with the desire to touch him. So I do. I bend over and brush a kiss over his ear, where he happens to be really sensitive, and he quivers all over.

"Mako-chan," he breathes.

I like making him helpless, so I spend some time kissing his ears, running my tongue along the rim, nibbling at his lobes, until he's uttering pitiful little sounds. Then I work my way down his throat and over his collarbones. He twitches and squirms against the mattress, but doesn't let go of the headboard. In fact he's clinging to it so hard that his biceps bulge. When I finally reach his chest, he makes little sobbing sounds deep in his throat, and I know what he wants without having to ask. I can still remember his voice: _Next time, I want you to kiss me there. Maybe use your teeth._

Last time I did that, he reacted like it was the best thing he'd ever felt. So I graze his nipple with my teeth, very lightly, and he arches beneath me, gasping for breath. His hands let go of the headboard, presumably so he can grab at my hair, and I instantly stop what I'm doing.

"Hold onto the headboard," I remind him, as sternly as I can manage.

He makes a whining sound of protest, but his hands wrap back around the iron. I bite him again, a little harder, and then I sit back on my heels and look at him.

He looks wrecked already. His chest is heaving and his skin is wet with a fine sheen of sweat. Haru told me I was beautiful the other night, but the truth is, _he's_ the beautiful one. I stare at him stretched out on the bed, panting and shivering, and I simply can't believe how impossibly perfect he is. His body is as slim and honed as a katana blade, and he's exactly the right height, just tall enough without being too big, so that when I hug him his head can nestle right into the warm place between my shoulder and my chin.

His eyes look black in the dim light, the pupils so enormous they've almost swallowed up the blue, and his disheveled hair is just as black. His skin is a little paler than mine, though, with nipples and lips of pale pink, like the inside of a shell. He has a huge erection right now, but despite being flushed and swollen it's barely any darker than his nipples... sort of rose-colored, I guess you'd call it. It's just as beautiful as the rest of him.

I can't stop looking. He's everything I've ever wanted, even more gorgeous than I ever could have imagined, and just staring at him makes me feel like I'm burning up from the inside. The fierce aching of my body reminds me that he brought me pretty damn close to the edge a few minutes ago, and I suddenly feel like I can't survive another second without some sort of physical stimulation. I wrap a hand around myself, almost absently, and begin stroking.

His eyes follow the motion of my hand, and they get bigger and rounder than before, like he's shocked.

Well, of course he's shocked. I'm supposed to be a nice boy, after all, and ordinarily the idea of, um... well... jerking off in front of Haru would never in a million years occur to me. I don't think it's ever occurred to him either. He's staring at me like he can't look away, and his breathing has gone harsh and raspy, like he's having trouble getting enough air.

I ought to be embarrassed, but something inside me is kind of feeding off his dazed expression. I slow down the motion of my hand, moving it very deliberately from the root to the head and back again. My erection is darker than his, more like a reddish color, and it's starting to kind of gleam in the candlelight as it leaks moisture. I have to fight really hard to keep the motion of my hand slow.

"Makoto," he says in a hoarse whisper. 

"Haru," I answer, because it's the only word my brain can come up with, the only word I know right now. I hear myself panting, feel my thighs shaking, and I recall my earlier fleeting fantasies about losing control and coming all over Haru. I can't stop myself from thinking about that again. I imagine climaxing hard, imagine the white ropes of come glistening against the shining black of his hair, and I almost lose it then and there. My hand pumps faster, and I hear myself making a long, hungry sound--

And then his hand is closing over mine. "Makoto," he says, his voice soft, almost plaintive. "Please."

I'm breathing heavily, covered in sweat, but I somehow manage to stop. I do my best to glare at him. "You're supposed to be holding onto the headboard, Haruka."

He blinks at the full name, which I rarely use. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding uncharacteristically meek. "But I want-- I want--" He swallows noisily.

I want, too. I want him in every possible way. But judging from his expression, I'm pretty sure he means _I want us to come together._ "Okay," I say, just as if he said it out loud. "But you have to promise to hold onto the headboard, Haru. And don't let go this time. Understand?"

He nods, his eyes round, and then his hands close over the iron again, and I shift so that I'm on top of him. I like being on top somehow, and I wonder if it's normal to care that much one way or the other. I don't know why, but I like feeling him beneath me. I like the feeling that I'm running things. I like feeling like I'm in control.

I lean forward, carefully bracing my weight on my hands, and lower my body until our erections--

No. I mean our cocks. Our cocks brush together, very lightly, and it feels _awesome._

We did this last night, and Haru wound up clawing the hell out of my back. It's a good thing he's holding onto the headboard now, because otherwise I think he might leave scars this time. His grip on the iron is so tight I swear I can hear it creak. His body arches up against mine, seeking more pressure, but I don't let him have it.

"Take it easy, Haru," I say in a gentle voice, brushing against him again. "There's no rush."

He gives a frustrated cry, like I'm dangling him off the side of a cliff or something. Which I guess I am, metaphorically speaking. One thing I've already figured out about Haru-- he's not really good at being patient in bed. When he wants to come, he wants it _right now,_ and he gets pretty annoyed when I make him wait for it. 

I brush against him a third time, and he bites me in the shoulder. Pretty hard, too. I yelp, and pull back.

"Behave," I tell him, trying again for a stern tone. "Or I'm not going to give you what you want."

" _Makoto._ " Earlier he reminded me of a playful kitten, but now all the humor is gone from his eyes. He looks frantic, wild, like this is serious business and he's ready to get down to it. I'm not surprised, because he's always been a pretty serious guy, especially about things that matter to him. 

I do it again. He feels as wet and warm as spring rain, and I must feel good to him too, because his cock jerks and twitches, and his body shivers, the scent of lemons and oranges rising from his heated skin. "I want--" he says again, breathless. "Makoto, I want--"

I lower my head and speak right in his ear. "You want to come, Haru?"

He arches against me, moaning. "Yes. Please."

"Not yet." I'm moving against him more steadily now, but still not giving either of us the pressure we need. I can hear him whimpering with every movement, like it's too much for him to bear, like it's so good it's almost painful. He tries to grab me with his long, powerful legs, so he can wrap himself around me and make me move faster, but I put a hand on each thigh and hold him down, and he sobs with frustration.

"Makoto, please!"

He feels wonderful beneath me, hot and wet and so eager for anything. He smells so good, the clean citrus fragrance mingling with the odors of precome and sweat and the indescribable scent of his skin. It occurs to me that if one of us had bought lube and condoms, I could slide into him _right now,_ fill him up, be part of him. The thought makes me throb with a sudden violent hunger. 

"Tomorrow night," I grind out, moving harder, faster. "Tomorrow night, I'm going to be inside you, Haru."

His mouth falls open, and he wails, actually _wails,_ his back arching and his head falling back. I don't know if he's responding to my words or the faster movements, but either way, I can feel myself beginning to shake, and I know I can't hold back any longer either. It's like trying to hold back a tsunami. I let go of his thighs, bracing myself on the bed. Then I reach between us, wrapping a hand around us both, and begin to move hard.

The bed starts to squeak beneath us, and there's a kind of weird squooshing sound as our bodies slide together. Haru is crying out beneath me, saying things like _fuck yes Makoto_ and _faster goddamnit_ and _oh shit don't stop **please** don't._ He rarely swears that much, so I'm guessing pleasure has burned out his verbal filters. I think maybe I'm crying out too, so loudly it ought to be embarrassing, and on some level I'm a little worried that the neighbors can probably hear us, but the pleasure is too all-encompassing for me to care all that much.

The thing is, I totally understand why Haru is cussing. Last night was different, almost too emotional to bear. But tonight-- this doesn't feel religious or sacred or profound. It just feels incredibly, awesomely hot. I remember my earlier concerns that this was just a physical thing, just about getting off, and I don't know what the hell I was so worried about. I like getting off, and it's obvious Haru does too. So how could that possibly be a problem?

I'm drowning in him, losing myself in the dark depths of an ocean I don't really understand. And I'm more than happy to be lost. 

"Haru," I say in his ear, and my voice sounds more like a growl than anything else. "Come for me, Haru... come for me..."

He sobs and lifts up against me, body straining like he's in the last few meters of a close race, and then I feel his cock jerking in my hand, feel the rush of warmth between us, hear him making an anguished sound that defies description. He's coming _because I told him to._ I know he's submitted to me completely, that he's mine, and I can't hold back another second.

Rapture burns its way through me, hot and overwhelming. My body shakes with the force of it, and I hear myself crying out as I come so hard I think I black out for a second. All my muscles tense unbearably, then slowly relax, and I collapse onto the mattress, gasping for air.

I don't want to crush Haru, so I roll to the side, putting an arm over his slender form and pulling him against me. I can hear him breathing hard too, but his body feels just about as inert as mine does. I bury my face in his hair, breathing in the mingled scents of sex and citrus that cling to him, and I can't help smiling.

Yeah, I think. I definitely like getting off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the nice notes and kudos! I noticed that "Touch" has over 5000 hits now-- thank you all so much! I'm very glad you're all enjoying the continuing adventures of Makoto and Haru in this story, too. 
> 
> This is just a short transitional fluffy chapter.

I remember learning to swim with Haru. He took to the water, everyone said, like a fish. It took no time at all for him to begin swimming gracefully underwater. He could hold his breath for an insane amount of time, and he moved through the water like it was his natural element. Before long people started comparing him to a dolphin instead of a fish.

Me, on the other hand-- well, at first I didn't like it much. It scared me, like I said before. I wanted to be just like Haru, though, so I tried really hard to learn to swim underwater. I'd make it a meter or two, then drop my feet down to the safety of concrete and pop my head up out of the water, gasping. The coach laughed, not unkindly, and called me a little orca, telling me that killer whales were fond of doing something called "spyhopping," which meant sticking their heads up out of the water to take a look around. This was a good thing for little orcas, he explained, but not such a good thing for little swimmers.

Before long I learned to swim without popping my head up every few feet, especially when the coach taught me the backstroke, which I loved. But even though I'd quit the spyhopping, the other kids still liked to tease me by calling me an orca, wielding it like a profanity, mocking me with it until I sniffled.

One day the teasing got bad enough that I burst into tears, and Haru got mad. He stood between me and the kids who were teasing me, so angry his hair practically fluffed up like a cat's, and informed them that orcas were just a bigger sort of dolphin, and that they swam beautifully besides. He was tiny compared to most of the other kids, but he looked fierce, his eyes shooting blue sparks, his little fists clenched. They all backed away, and mostly left me alone after that.

Since that moment, I've never minded being compared to an orca. The idea that I was just like Haru, only bigger, was comforting. The idea that I might someday be as beautiful as him in the water was inspiring.

And the fact that little Haru stood up for me, faced down all those kids for me, made my heart melt.

I think that might be the day that Haru and I became inseparable.

*****

This is the second time I've awakened with Haru in my bed, and I think it's something I could definitely get used to. In sleep, he's adorable, warm, cuddly, and soft-- all words which don't usually apply to him when he's awake. His mouth is wide open, a little drool dribbling out, and it's so cute that I can hardly hold back a laugh.

I'm barely awake myself, blinking hard just to stay conscious, but I don't want to go back to sleep, because I don't get the opportunity to just stare at Haru all that often. He kicked the covers to the floor sometime during the night, and in the golden sunlight streaming in from the window, I can see so many details I couldn't make out by candlelight. His black hair is standing up all over his head, because we took a shower before we crashed out for the night. There are fading marks on his shoulder, where I bit him the other day, and a couple of newer, red ones, where I guess I got carried away last night. I notice his lips look a little fuller, a little pinker than usual. I wonder if that's from all the kissing we did, or from the other activity he was using his mouth for. The thought makes me a little pinker, too.

I watch him a while longer, and a warm pool of adoration begins to settle inside me. I have loved Nanase Haruka for years, but I've never loved him as much as I do right now-- sprawled inelegantly across the bed, drooling into the pillow, his hair looking like birds might have nested in it overnight. I don't know why, exactly, but in this moment I love him so much my chest hurts.

He smells like lemons and oranges, and the sheets smell of the clean open-air scent of detergent (we changed them before bed because there didn't seem to be a lot of point in taking a shower and then sleeping on gunky sheets). I can still smell the vanilla from last night's candles scenting the air, too. But there are other odors in the air as well. Despite the clean sheets, the room smells kind of... earthy.

It smells like sex, I realize, and that makes me pinker than before.

I stir a little, trying to stretch without waking up Haru, and realize I'm a little sore in places that are better off unsore. All that rubbing together we did without lube-- well, I'm starting to see why people use the stuff. It's only a minor discomfort, but I can easily imagine that friction in other, more sensitive places could get really painful really fast.

I remember my words to Haru: _Tomorrow night, I'm going to be inside you._ The fact that a sentence like that actually came out of my mouth ought to be enough to make me blush, but it just reminds me that we need to get some, um, supplies. Because that's a promise I don't intend to go back on.

I'm gradually waking up, and I use the quiet time to keep studying Haru. He's sprawled out against the pale blue sheets, totally naked, and I look down his body, admiring the nicely sculpted muscles of his chest, the long, long legs, and his, uh. You know. Um... his cock, I mean. It's at half-mast, and in the morning sunshine that's slanting in through the window I can see that it is definitely a rose color, a pretty, delicate pink. He shaves most of his body, but he does have some neatly trimmed pubic hair, so black that the pink looks very vivid by comparison. I think about how he looked last night, when he was fully erect, dripping precome, and all of a sudden I'm practically drooling myself.

I look back up, and see a sliver of blue.

His eyes are open. Well, the one eye that isn't mashed against the pillow is open, barely. He looks like I felt a few minutes ago, like waking up is something to be avoided at all costs. But his eyelashes flutter-- they're incredibly dark too, and ridiculously long; I don't know a single girl with eyelashes as long as Haru's-- and slowly he seems to be sliding toward wakefulness.

"Hey," he mumbles, lifting his head a little and trying to blink his eyes open. 

"Good morning, Haru-chan." I guess I must sound disgustingly cheerful, because his eyes narrow into slits again, glaring at me balefully.

"I hate you."

"Always a nice thing to hear after a night of sex."

"Shut up." Haru is always a grump first thing in the morning. I've had enough sleepovers with him to know. "We haven't had sex yet. That wasn't _sex,_ per se."

"Oh, yeah?" I grin at him. "What do you call it when you have your mouth on someone's--"

"Shut _up._ And stop smiling so much. It's irritating."

I can't help myself. I grin wider, and he groans, pulling the pillow over his head. "Your stupid smile is so bright, you should come equipped with a dimmer switch," he grumbles, his voice muffled.

"Yeah, well, you need to come equipped with an on switch. Because it always takes you like an hour to wake up."

"It's Sunday," he whines. "I'm supposed to be able to sleep in. That means no annoying orcas showing me all their teeth before noon."

"Fine, you big baby." I notice that what was formerly at half-mast is now fully awake, even if he's not. "Me and my stupid smile will leave you alone, and go make us some breakfast."

A sliver of blue shows from beneath the pillow, glinting hopefully. "Mackerel?"

"Haru, I told you what I'd do to you if I ever smelled mackerel in the morning again. I don't even want to _think_ about mackerel in the morning. I'll make us some eggs."

"Don't want eggs," he mumbles. "Want mackerel."

"You're annoyingly persistent when you're sleepy, you know that?"

"It's your fault I'm sleepy." He pushes the pillow off his head, yawning cavernously, and stretches in a way I suspect is deliberately calculated to show off every inch of his body. "You kept me up half the night."

I can't help glancing down. "You're _up_ now."

"Ha ha. Do you ever think about anything besides sex?" He smiles sleepily, and it's the cutest expression I've ever seen on his face. "I think I've created a monster."

"Yeah, and its name is Haru-chan. Who was it who was waiting for me in bed last night, totally naked?"

"I was just trying to get some sleep." He tries for an innocent look, and fails epically. "Your mattress is softer than mine."

"Mmm-hmmm." I reach for him and drape an arm over him. "You were trying to seduce me."

"No. Seduction requires effort." He looks at me consideringly. "Though not much, in your case."

"Ha. Like I'm the easy one here."

"You're pretty damn easy." He looks like he's thinking about that. I can practically hear the gears grinding in his head. Then he rolls toward me, props himself up on an elbow, and runs a finger down my chest. "I wonder," he says thoughtfully, "what it would take to seduce you into mackerel for breakfast."

"Are you kidding me?" His finger trails down my belly, and I gulp, feeling myself get hard. Well, harder. "Are you seriously offering to trade sexual favors for mackerel?"

"Of course not." His finger trails down lower, and his eyes are no longer slivers of blue. They're bright and round and observing me with avid interest. "I'm just wondering exactly how weak you are, Makoto."

"I'm not weak." That isn't true, and we both know it. Haru is my weakness, but he's a weakness I'm happy to have. I try for a stern tone. "I told you, no mackerel for breakfast. Not today. Not ever. I mean it, Haru-chan."

"Hmmmm," he muses, and strokes his finger right down the underside of my cock. It twitches, dripping precome onto my abdomen. I grit my teeth and do my best to ignore his extremely persuasive argument.

"No, Haru. Not happening."

"If you say so," he answers, and then he's bending over me, his lips parted, his pink tongue darting out, and... well, like I said, where Haru is concerned, I'm weak. Very, very weak.

It probably goes without saying that we wind up having mackerel for breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get this up this weekend. As usual, there was too much going on in real life. I was thinking I might wrap this one up today, but also as usual this chapter grew far more monstrous than expected. So at least one more chapter after this one!
> 
> I appreciate all the kind words and kudos. Also, I noticed "Touch" hit 400 kudos this weekend. Thanks so much to all my readers!!!

Haru was always a little different.

I was the Nice Boy of Iwatobi, but he was the Weird Kid. We'd walk to school side by side every morning, and I'd hear people whispering things like, _Why does Tachibana-san let that Nice Boy hang out with that Weird Kid all the time?_ It hurt me to hear it, so I can only imagine how it affected Haru. But even back then he had that expressionless, blank look down perfectly. He never showed he heard the whispers, never betrayed his feelings by a flinch or a tear or even a lip quiver. But I know it had to hurt like hell.

His parents were even worse. His father absolutely hated the fact that the Weird Kid of Iwatobi resided under his roof. He was a strongly traditional man who felt like Haru's oddities disgraced the family somehow, and his mom was too cowed to stand up for her son against her husband. When Haru was about twelve, they took him to a specialist in the city, and when they came back Haru's mom spent hours talking to mine about big words I didn't really understand, like _Asperger's syndrome_ and _autism spectrum disorder_ and _pervasive developmental disorder._

But Haru's dad seemed to lose interest entirely when he discovered there wasn't a "cure" (as if Haru somehow needed to be cured of being Haru). Haru's grandmother moved in eventually, and when Haru's dad got a job in another city a year or so later, they left him in his grandmother's care. Haru never said anything, but I know he felt abandoned. Still, his grandmother was a nice old lady, if painfully old-fashioned, and he did okay till she died quietly while tending her garden, just before our second year in high school.

I figured Haru's parents would come back for him then, and take him with them to their new home. I was distraught at the thought of losing him, but on some level I was happy for him, because I knew that he still missed them an awful lot. They did come back for the funeral, but two days later they were off again, leaving Haru behind.

Haru didn't show any emotion when they left. I think he was already numb from his grandmother's death, and the loss of his parents at a time when he really, really needed them was such a big blow he couldn't even process it. I had no idea how to help him, but I did my best. That night I went to his house, bringing him some food my mom had cooked for him, and I found him sitting alone in the dark.

I tried to get him to eat, but he wouldn't. He just sat there, staring moodily at the shadows on the wall. So I sat with him, and eventually I talked him into going to bed.

Mom knew I would be sleeping over. We'd been sleeping over at each other's houses practically since we were babies, after all. But I don't think Mom would've been totally okay with what actually happened, which was me lying down in bed next to him. When we were little, we'd shared a futon every time we slept over. We were almost grown up now, though, and I know Mom wouldn't have thought it was appropriate for the two of us to share a bed. But I couldn't imagine leaving Haru alone in the dark, not after everything that he'd gone through.

He didn't object, but he was very stiff next to me. There was just enough light to see that he was staring blankly at the ceiling. I could hear a slight hitch in his breathing, and I knew him well enough to be certain he was fighting tears. So I put an arm around him.

And he went to pieces.

I had never heard Haru cry like that. Never. It's not that he never cried. I'd known him since babyhood, so of course I'd seen him cry. He might have the impassive face down, but he was just like anybody else, and if he got hurt badly enough, he was perfectly capable of crying. I'd seen him shed tears over scraped knees and lost races and the loss of friends. But this was something else entirely.

Haru pressed his face into my shoulder and sobbed like his world was coming apart, which I suppose it was. He'd kept himself from showing any emotion since his grandmother died, and I guess all that pain just kind of burst out of him at once. It was an agonizing thing to witness. I didn't know what to do, so I just held him and murmured _Haru-chan, Haru-chan,_ over and over again.

I held him till he fell asleep in my arms, worn out from grief. The next morning the emotionless mask went back on, and he claimed that he was fine. But in the evening I slept over again, and again he cried his heart out in my arms.

I slept with him every night for a week, until he felt a little better.

I already knew I loved him, of course. I'd known that for years already. But this was the first time I truly recognized how fragile he could be beneath the mask, the first time I saw him so broken and shattered that I realized he needed my protection in exactly the same way that I needed his. I remembered the way he'd stood between me and the kids mocking me all those years ago, and all at once I wanted to do that for him, too.

I wanted to stand between Haru and the world.

*****

"I think maybe we should, uh, wait on this a little while."

I'm sprawled on the couch in the living room, and Haru is sitting on the floor next to me, typing away at his English paper. At my words, he looks up at me. His face is carefully blank. "And by _this,_ you mean...?"

I clear my throat nervously, because when Haru goes that expressionless, an explosion might not be far behind. "Um, I've been. Um. Studying."

"So have I."

"No. I mean, I finished my schoolwork a little while ago. And since then I've been, um, doing research. On, uh..."

He clicks something on his keyboard, presumably saving his work, and then closes the laptop. He turns to face me, his face still totally blank. "You've been doing research on sex?"

I feel myself turning very red. I put aside my own laptop, then pull off my glasses and make a show of rubbing my eyes in the hopes of concealing my blush. "Well... I don't know what I'm doing, Haru. I mean, I don't want to, you know, hurt you. So I figured I ought to read about it a little first."

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me steadily. 

"Anyway, the thing is..." I clear my throat again. "I'm getting the impression that sometimes it, you know, kind of hurts. You have swim practice tomorrow, and I don't want you to be too sore to swim. So I was thinking, maybe next Saturday..."

"No."

The word is quiet, but very firm. I sigh. "Look, Haru, I'm really scared that--"

"Tonight. You promised. Anyway, we already bought the stuff we need this morning."

Haru, I think to myself, gives new definition to the word _hardheaded._ Once he's made up his mind to do something, he's damn well going to do it. He's always had that sprinter mentality-- he just charges full-speed into what he wants, regardless of the possible consequences. "Yeah, but using, uh, lube doesn't mean it's not gonna hurt. Suppose I mess up? Suppose I really do you an injury somehow?"

I can hear my voice rising, and his eyes soften as he looks at me. "You won't. I trust you, Makoto."

Where Haru is concerned, I don't trust myself at all. But even if I manage to keep myself completely under control, there's still no guarantee I won't damage him somehow. I mean, what if we just don't fit? What if I do something wrong? What if he hates it? This morning, when we were in bed together, the idea of being inside him sounded so hot, but now it just sounds incredibly complicated. I'm genuinely terrified of screwing this up.

"I don't trust me," I say at last, consciously lowering my voice. 

His mouth curves up, very slightly, and his eyes soften further. 

"Good thing one of us does," he says.

He gets to his feet, stretching to get rid of the kinks, and I stand up too, more as a defensive maneuver than anything else. There's a glint in his eye, a certain set to his chin, that says he's not going to give me a chance to wimp out of this.

Sure enough, he's on me before I've even gotten my balance. I find myself stumbling back, Haru's arms around my shoulders, his mouth against my throat. His lips are hot and eager, and I automatically tilt my head back to let him do whatever he wants.

He runs his lips and his tongue over my throat, finding all the most sensitive spots, and his body presses against mine. He's rubbing against me, sliding his thigh between mine in an effort to get closer, and I'm hard already.

Damn it. I was planning on taking this slow, so I could maintain control over myself. So I could go very, very slowly and carefully, making sure I didn't hurt him. But this is Haru, and if he really wants to do something he always dives in headfirst.

He's trying to press himself against me, the way we did in bed, but it doesn't work, because I have three or four inches on him. Standing up, we don't fit quite right. I hear him whining a complaint, a soft little sound in the back of his throat.

"Makoto, you're too tall."

I know how to fix that, I think, remembering my recurring fantasy. I lift him, ignoring his startled yelp, turn around, and shove him into the wall, fairly hard. I lean into him, taking his mouth with mine, kissing him hard and deep. He flails for an instant, and then suddenly he gets it. His arms wrap around my shoulders and his legs around my hips, and now that he has enough support I let my hands slip down so that my fingers are digging into his ass, pulling him even closer.

He moans into my mouth as I move my hips, rolling them against him. God, this feels incredible, as good as I imagined. Maybe even better. I pull my mouth away from his, and before I know it I'm bending my head and biting his shoulder again, heedless of the t-shirt in my way.

_Mine. All mine._

"Clothes," he gasps into my hair, his voice desperate, like he hasn't had sex in weeks. "Need them off. Now."

"Haru-chan..." I feel as desperate as he sounds, but I try to get a grip on myself. There is no possible way I can take Haru up against a wall for his very first time and not hurt him. And hurting him is something I absolutely will not do. I've thought of myself as Haru's protector since we were sixteen, and I'm not going to stop now, just because my stupid body wants to do this right here, right now. "We are not doing this against a wall."

"Unnnhhhh." He digs his bare feet into my upper thighs, pulling me closer, and his spine does that flexing thing, so that I can feel the heat of his hard-on pressing right against mine despite the jeans in the way. He's so damn eager. So hard to say no to. "Please, Makoto, please..."

"Ahhhhh, Haru." I can hardly breathe. My hips are moving against him, hard and fast, despite all my efforts to stop it. "God, I've dreamed about this so many times..."

"About what?" His voice is soft. "Fucking me against a wall?"

The word sends a jolt of fire straight to my cock. " _Haru._ "

"You can say it, you know." His mouth is all over my throat, his fingers tangled in my hair. "It's just the two of us, Mako-chan. You can say whatever you want to me."

I know that's true. I've always been able to tell Haru anything. But this is different. I shake my head and press my face into his shoulder, feeling my cheeks heat up. I hear his soft huff of amusement.

"I want you to fuck me," he says into my ear. " _Hard,_ Makoto."

Oh, God. His words are so blunt, so direct, that it makes me crazy, and my body is already almost totally out of my control. If there weren't clothes between us, acting as a barrier, I'd probably do exactly what he wants me to do. As it is I'm grinding against him frantically, and despite the denim in the way, it feels so good that I'm starting to groan with every movement.

"Haru." I bite his earlobe, none too gently. "We are not... doing this... here."

His body is beginning to tremble, and I can barely understand the words he gasps out. "PleaseMakotopleaseIcan'twait."

I may not know much about this stuff yet, but I know enough to realize we're rapidly approaching the point of no return. I take a step back from the wall and let my hands slip up Haru's spine. But he's wrapped around me like a starfish on an oyster, and doesn't seem inclined to let me go, so I muster up all the sternness I can.

"Come on into the bedroom, Haru."

He unwraps his thighs from around me and lets his feet slide to the ground. I have to support him because he's shaking so hard I think he might just crumple to the ground if I don't. "Makoto," he whines, nuzzling my throat. "Please."

"Haruka. Come on."

At the sound of his full name, he pulls back a little and looks up at me. His eyes are shadowed with lust, his breath is coming in hard pants, and his face is flushed. But he nods obediently, and lets me take his hand.

I lead him into my bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up yesterday, but it turned out really long, and in addition it was difficult to get the emotional content of this chapter just right. Sorry! I've spent a lot of time editing and trying to get it to flow right. Hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> Feedback makes me a very happy writer:-).

No matter how much you love someone, you can't protect them forever.

I still remember the way Haru looked at me when I told him I was going to Tokyo. The flare of hurt in his eyes as fireworks went off all around us. The look of anguished betrayal that crossed his face.

I think I might have taken it even harder than he did. After his grandmother died and his parents left him behind, I'd promised myself that I'd be there for him, that I'd take care of him. That there would be one person in the world he could always count on.

Of course I understood that I couldn't put my life on hold, not even for Haru. I know that sooner or later, I'd have to make a decision for me, not for him. That I needed to put myself and my future first.

Intellectually, I knew all this. But it still hurt like hell to think about leaving him behind.

Even though we both wound up in Tokyo, I still haven't forgotten the way he turned and ran from me that night, the way he _looked_ at me, like I was just one more person hurting him, leaving him, abandoning him. One more loss, in a lifetime of abandonment.

I don't ever want him to look at me that way again. I don't ever want to hurt him again.

Not ever.

*****

Tonight isn't going quite the way I planned. I intended to take Haru out to dinner (mostly so he couldn't talk me into cooking mackerel again), talk a while, maybe see a movie, just to make sure he was totally relaxed. But we're both seriously worked up now, and neither of us could possibly be described as relaxed.

I tug his clothing off, piece by piece, and push him back onto the comforter. The warm red-gold light of the sunset is slanting through the blinds, painting his skin with bars of bright color, and he's so beautiful it almost hurts. His hair is mussed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he's fully erect. When I look at him, his cock quivers, dripping a little precome onto his abs. I look at him lying there, naked, totally exposed to my gaze, and I don't have the foggiest idea where to start. 

_Start at the beginning,_ I tell myself at last, and bend to kiss him.

This kiss is very different from the frantic kisses we shared a few moments ago. It's more careful, more warm, his lips soft and sweet beneath mine. God, I could kiss Haru like this forever. His mouth tastes spicy, and I can't stop myself from running my tongue along his lower lip. He opens his mouth, and before I know it I'm delving inside, my tongue stroking his. He moans softly, and so do I, because it feels so...

Well, intimate.

I try to keep it gentle, because I don't want to get carried away. I'm already way more worked up than I meant to be, and I need to go as slow as possible. Now that I've stripped all his clothes off, Haru looks so vulnerable, so pale, so fragile. I know he's not, that he's a big strong guy, athletic and tough and physically very much a match for me, but something in my head is insisting that he needs to be protected. From the world... and from me. From the shadows inside me.

Anyway, I'm already so hard it hurts, and I can't afford to get more turned on. So I keep it slow-- long, sweet, deep kisses. Before long Haru is squirming beneath me and whimpering and clutching my hair (because Haru is apparently incapable of ever taking it slow for longer than two minutes). I pull back, wincing a little at his grip, and look straight into his eyes.

"We're not going to rush this, Haru."

"Makoto," he says in a ragged whisper. His eyes reflect the light of the sunset, glowing like fire. "I need you."

"I know." I stroke his cheek with my thumb, very gently. "I need you too. But this time it needs to be slow, okay?"

"Unnnhhh," he complains, and promptly tries to wrap his legs around me. I grab a thigh in either hand to stop him, and it occurs to me that's a good place to start. I shift so that I'm between his legs, and bend, brushing my lips against the soft skin of his inner thigh.

"Unnnhhhh," he says again, only this time it sounds less like a complaint and more like encouragement, a long, soft sound of undeniable pleasure. I do it again, beginning at his knee and moving upward. He falls back against the comforter, and his grip loosens, one hand resting gently on my hair.

I stop before I get anywhere too intimate, and shift my focus to his other thigh. I can hear him sighing with pleasure as I work my way up. This time I don't stop. I brush kisses over his, um... 

Well. His balls, I mean. I haven't really touched him there yet, and that's an oversight I want to remedy. Apparently he's pretty sensitive there, because he throws back his head and arches his spine and utters a soft groan. I kiss him there a few moments longer, enjoying his responsiveness, the way he sighs and pants and whispers my name. Then I sit up and take them into my hand, rolling them gently. They feel cool and soft against my palm.

After a minute I slide my fingers down behind them. My reading on the internet says this area is called the perineum, and that a lot of guys like being stimulated there. I've never tried it myself, which is probably kind of sad. Obviously there's a lot I've been missing, and I wonder why I never looked this stuff up before.

Because it makes me blush, I guess.

At the light brush of my fingers, Haru makes a sound like a strangled laugh, and I remember he's really ticklish. I press a little more firmly, and his laughter fades into a moan.

" _Makoto._ "

I sit there for a few moments, stroking my fingers over his skin, observing his reactions. I like watching his spine arch, his mouth fall open. I like seeing his chest rise and fall like he's having trouble getting enough oxygen. I like watching his cock swell even more, until it's a vivid pink, until it glistens with moisture. I like turning Haru into a helpless, gasping mess.

"Makoto," he mutters again, and this time it sounds more urgent. "Come on... I want you inside me..."

My cock gives an eager twitch at the words, but I ignore it. I've already figured out it's stupid and shouldn't be listened to right now. That's why I'm still wearing my clothes. "Haru," I say, pressing a little more firmly. "You know you have to be patient, right? It doesn't work like that. I can't just, you know..."

"Start fucking me," he says. "Now."

That's so typically Haru that I can barely restrain a laugh. "No, Haru-chan. I'm in charge and we're going to do it my way. Okay?"

He looks distinctly pouty, or as pouty as a guy can be when he's lying on his back with his legs wide open, panting for breath. "I want you inside me. Come _on,_ Makoto."

"Not yet, Haruka. But..." I stand up and strip off all my clothes, conscious of his blue gaze on me, then reach for the lube, which we left on the bedside table. I open it and pour a decent amount of it onto my fingers. It feels strange, thick and kind of squooshy. I put my hand back on him and let it trail down toward, shall we say, a more intimate area. He jolts as I find what I'm looking for.

"Uhhhh." It isn't a particularly happy noise. I stroke him there, as gently as I can, and he twitches and stirs uncomfortably. I look at his face and see the dark eyebrows pulling down.

"Is that okay?"

He frowns. "It feels kind of... weird."

"I think maybe it's something you kind of have to get used to. You haven't ever done this? By yourself, I mean?"

"No."

"Me neither." I wish I could assure him I know exactly what I'm doing here, but it's probably pretty obvious I don't. I do my best to compensate for my lack of experience by being as gentle as possible. I stroke around his entrance in very careful circles, noticing he's gone tense, but in a couple of minutes he seems to relax into it. He isn't moaning and sighing with pleasure, but he's not scowling, either. 

I try to slide my finger into him, and he immediately jolts again.

"Relax," I say, putting my other hand on his thigh and stroking gently. "Take it easy."

He swallows noisily. "Mako-chan. I... I don't think I like this."

"I'll stop if you want me to, Haru. But I think you should probably give it a minute first." 

My finger finally manages to slide into him. He's incredibly tight, incredibly hot, and for a second all I can think about is what it would feel like to be inside him, what he would feel like around me. For an instant I'm blinded by lust, and I shove my finger in a bit further, a little more roughly than I meant to. 

He whimpers, and it's not a happy sound.

I shake off the lust and take a look at him, and see that tears are pooling at the corner of his eyes. "Haru," I say. Guilt pours through me in a hot wave. I am totally screwing this up, making his first experience a bad one, and I feel awful about it. "I'm sorry-- we better stop--"

"No." His voice is strangled, but he sounds grimly determined. "I want to do this."

I swallow. "Okay, if you're sure. Maybe if you relaxed a little?"

He glares at me, hitting me full force with a blaze of blue. "Have you ever tried to relax with someone's finger up your--"

"Hey," I say, stroking his thigh some more. "Take it easy, Haru. Getting mad at me isn't going to help. You're just so tight..."

"Yeah," he says, his voice strained. "Go figure. I always thought you were the tight-assed one."

I can't help laughing. His mouth curves slightly, which for him is practically a belly laugh, and I feel a little better. Maybe I haven't totally screwed this up. I just need to figure out what I'm doing wrong here, and fix it. I look over his body, seeing the tension in every muscle, and I realize that when my touch became uncomfortable for him, he instinctively stiffened up and straightened his legs out, so they're almost flat against the mattress. His body is on the defensive, trying to prevent my intrusion. No wonder he's not enjoying himself.

"Can you put one of your legs over my shoulder?" I say.

He looks at me wide-eyed, like that kind of vulnerability is the last thing he wants right now. "Why?"

"Just do it, Haruka."

He bristles indignantly at my tone, but raises his right leg and drapes it over my shoulder. 

"Good," I say. "Now kind of pull up your other leg so it's bent, okay?"

He does that too, and all of a sudden the pressure on my finger relaxes quite a bit. I press it in a little deeper, and he blinks at me.

"That actually feels a little better."

"Does it feel good?"

"No," he answers with his typical bluntness, "but it isn't as bad as it was."

Okay. I can work with that. I try moving my finger inside him, thrusting gently, and he stirs restlessly against the mattress like it's still not totally comfortable. I take the bottle and dribble some more lube on my finger, then kind of work it into him, and I can see him relaxing into it. He doesn't look especially turned on (in fact, his erection has flagged to half-mast), but he no longer has tears in his eyes, and that's a big improvement.

I try stroking his softening cock with my other hand, very lightly, and he gasps and squirms.

"Does that feel good, Haru?"

"That does," he answers. "The other thing-- I'm still not liking it much, Makoto. I mean, it's not bad, but it's not good either. It's just kind of a distraction from the good stuff, you know?"

I'm pretty sure it can be better than that, if I can get him to relax a little more. I wrap my fingers around his cock and start caressing him, and before long he's hard again, hard enough to begin leaking precome. I stroke my thumb over the wet tip, so gently it probably tickles a little, and at the same moment I use my other hand to slip in a second finger.

He makes one of those strangled noises. Could be pleasure, could be pain. I keep teasing the head of his cock, very gently, and press my fingers further into him. He grunts, and I can feel his body clenching on my fingers, trying to push them out again.

"Want me to stop?"

"Uhhhh." His eyes look wet again, like they might overflow at any moment. "I _want_ to like this, Makoto. I want you. I just... I just don't..."

"It's all right," I tell him. "We don't have to do this tonight, okay? It's fine if you don't like it. It's perfectly fine."

I'm more than willing to stop, but more than anything, I want him to feel good, so I stroke the head of his cock again, and his hips respond automatically, pressing down on my fingers. And suddenly he jerks, gasping sharply.

" _Makoto._ "

 _Oh._ I remember reading about this, even though I've never tried it myself (which is really too bad, judging from what I've been reading). I try curling my fingers, feeling a little rough area beneath them. I press my fingers into it, and he makes a sound halfway between a sob and a teakettle whistle, such an un-Haru sound that I can hardly restrain a laugh.

"Am I hurting you, Haru?"

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, and sure enough, he shakes his head frantically. "Don't stop, Mako-chan, _don't stop--_ "

I have less than no desire to stop, now that I finally have him to the point where he's enjoying himself. I curl my fingers, rubbing his prostate again, and his cock spasms, dribbling out a gush of precome. He arches his hips, his thighs trembling, and every time I touch him there he makes one of those high-pitched noises. I keep moving my fingers in him, kind of scissoring them in an effort to stretch him out. Every so often I brush my fingers right _there,_ until he's almost sobbing with pleasure, shuddering with every movement of my hand, his abs gleaming with the moisture dripping from his cock.

At last I feel like he's probably about as ready as he'll ever be. I shift between his thighs, pour a bunch more lube onto my hand, and look at him seriously, making sure he looks back at me.

"You sure you don't want me to use a condom, Haru?"

We talked about this earlier, on the way to the store. Since neither of us has ever had sex, we figure we're both clean, and can go without protection. He nods. 

"No condom," he says, his voice soft. "Just you."

"Okay." I rub the lube all over my cock, until I'm slick with it. The wetness and the pressure of my hand feels good. In fact it feels better than good. I'm way more worked up than I wanted to be, but I remind myself that I have to take this slow, that I don't want to hurt Haru. No matter what, I won't be the one that hurts him.

I lean over him and press against him, trying to push my way in.

Nothing happens. 

"You're all stiff again, Haru." I lean forward further, bracing myself on my hands, and look down at him. "Can you put your legs around me, maybe?"

He hesitates only a second, then wraps his legs around my waist, bracing his heels on the small of my back. I take myself in my hand, lining us up, and flex my spine, pushing my hips forward. The tight ring of muscle yields to me and I slide into him, and oh God he's so hot and so tight and it's so incredibly good--

"Uhhhhhh."

I open my own eyes-- which is not easy; it feels like my eyelids weigh a hundred kilos apiece-- to see that Haru's eyes are squinched tight, his mouth compressed into a line, his face pink. He looks decidedly unhappy. "Haru? Does it hurt?"

"You're just so big," he answers, his voice soft.

 _Oh, God._ Heat runs through me at the words, but I know he didn't mean it as a compliment. I manage to hold back the automatic response of my body, which is to thrust into him hard. I hold still, quivering.

"Just relax, okay?"

He huffs softly, a sound that's as much irritation as humor. "Have you ever tried to relax with a log up your--"

"Stop it," I say, and despite myself I'm laughing. "I'm not that big, Haru!"

"It kind of feels like it." He lifts his legs, wrapping them more firmly around my waist, and leans his head back. For long moments he just breathes, softly and steadily, and I hold still, despite every nerve in my body screaming at me to move. At last he nods. "Okay. Go ahead."

I flex my hips and slide in maybe a centimeter more. He feels awesome, so tight and slick and hot that I can hardly hold still. I hear myself gasping for breath, feel myself shaking, and it takes every ounce of control I've got to stop myself from thrusting violently.

Haru's hands have been resting on my shoulders, but suddenly I feel him stroking my hair like he's trying to encourage me. I moan. "Haru..."

"More," he whispers, and the tension is gone from his voice.

I give him another centimeter or two. It's agonizing and it's ecstatic and it's all but unbearable. This time, when I moan, he moans too, and his hips lift. I push in a little more, gasping, and it's easy now-- he's soft and relaxed and ready for me, his body rising to meet mine. A few breathless moments later I'm buried to the hilt inside him, and I lower my head, panting into his shoulder. His skin is hot against my mouth, and he smells like citrus and sweat and sex. 

I'm not just inside him, I realize. I'm part of him, and he's part of me, and it feels so right, so perfect, that it makes my eyes sting. I wish we could stay like this forever, that we could be a single entity for all time and never, ever have to break apart again. I wish I could remain perfectly still inside him until the end of eternity.

But my body has other ideas. My spine flexes, so that I pull almost all the way out, and then I'm sliding in again, and I hear myself sobbing with the pleasure of it. He seems to like it too, judging from the way his hands tighten on my shoulders. He gasps my name, and I can't help doing it again, only this time I move harder, thrusting into him.

He sighs like he's enjoying it, but not like it's the best sensation ever. I remember that I should be stimulating his prostate, so on the next thrust I kind of rotate my hips, and miraculously, I seem to find what I'm looking for, because Haru's hands dig into my shoulders and he cries out _oh yes Makoto yes._

I'm desperate not to hurt him, so I move in careful, deliberate thrusts, going as slowly as I can. I hear myself sobbing his name, and he's begging me for more, _harder faster damn it Makoto come on,_ but despite the heat that's gripped me I know that I can't risk hurting him. I remember him crying against my shoulder in the darkness after his grandmother died, after his parents abandoned him, when I was all he had, the only person in the world who could be bothered to care for him. He's so fragile, so vulnerable, and he needs my protection...

My balls ache and my muscles are taut and I'm dripping sweat. Our bodies make a squelching sound as they slap together, and Haru is arching beneath me, meeting me thrust for thrust, and it's so hard to keep control. I grit my teeth and struggle against the needs of my body, trying desperately to hold myself together.

"Makoto." His voice is a rasp in my ear. "Come on, Mako-chan, you won't hurt me-- please-- I'm not going to break, I swear--"

My mind is a roaring confusion of need and guilt. I have these two impulses battling inside me-- the need to dominate Haruka, and the need to protect him. I'm starting to understand that even though I have this weird desire to dominate him, the flip side of that coin is the need to take care of him, to make sure that whenever I'm in charge, he doesn't get hurt. Vaguely I can see that these impulses are related somehow, that they're tangled inextricably together, that it's the sunlight that creates the shadows inside me.

And yet that understanding doesn't do much to help me figure things out, not really. Haru is mine to protect, but how the hell can I protect him when I want him this badly? How can I protect him from myself?

My mind is roiling, but my body continues to move, slowly, deliberately, and Haru quivers with every thrust, his nails raking my back. His words are scattered now, incoherent, his sentences broken apart by the wavering cries that rise from his throat every time I move in him. He's close, so close, and that knowledge makes me want to thrust hard, to-- to--

All at once I remember Haru's voice. _I want you to fuck me. **Hard,** Makoto._

That's what I want too. I want Haru, want him so much, in every way possible. But I'm still so terrified of hurting him. I never want to be the one to hurt him. 

Not again.

I can't help remembering the way he looked at me after we fought, after he learned I was leaving for Tokyo, and--

Well, I never want him to look at me that way again. Never again.

I force my eyes open, push myself to a more upright position, and stare down at him. He's soaked with sweat, inky black hair plastered to his forehead, muscles rippling beneath wet skin. The sunset is fading, and the light from the window streaks his beautiful body with bars of dark gold and deep lavender. His face is contorted in what looks like agony but isn't, judging from the sounds still falling from his lips.

He opens his eyes too, and even in the dying light they're incredibly, heartstoppingly blue. I can see so many emotions battling in their depths-- hunger and affection, annoyance and understanding-- but what I don't see is pain or distress.

Haru is enjoying this. I'm not hurting him. He _wants_ this.

He wants _me._

"Makoto," he whispers, reaching out to me. "Mako-chan?"

His voice is small, quavering, hIs eyes slowly filling with worry, and all at once I understand that he thought I was pulling away from him. Well, maybe I was. But even through my swirling fears, I know that pulling away from him is the last thing I ever want to do. In fact, it occurs to me, pulling away from him is the only thing I've ever done that actually did hurt him.

Getting closer to him, I realize, isn't going to hurt either of us. 

"Haru-chan," I say, like his name is the answer to all my questions. I lean back down, kissing him on the lips. He kisses me back and wraps himself around me more tightly than ever, and I--

I let myself go.

My body takes over, my spine flexing, my hips thrusting. Not brutally, but fast and hard, in the steady rhythm we both need. It's hot and good and I can tell he's enjoying it just as much as I am. I lose myself in the sensations, in the way he feels, the spicy taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the wet, lewd sounds of two bodies moving together.

I love the way cool, collected Haru is reduced to frantic swearing when he's close to coming, gasping _fuck me Makoto please oh fuck yes,_ and I love even more the way he eventually stops being able to speak entirely, his voice trailing off into incoherent cries of pleasure.

I bury my face in his throat and move harder and faster than before, following the demands of my body, feeling the tension winding tighter and tighter inside me, until I'm shaking with it. I feel Haru's nails clawing me harder, and then he sobs beneath me, wails, shudders. He's coming just from this, without so much as a touch to his cock, and at the knowledge that I made him feel that way, the tension that's been building inside me snaps abruptly.

Sparks shoot up my spine and through every nerve in my body, and a flare of white-hot fire surges through me, dragging a rough, raw shout from my throat. I'm coming inside Haru, and it's so good, so perfect, that I can't stop myself from crying out his name, over and over again.

"Haru-- Haru-- ahhh, God, Haru, _I love you--_ "

The sensations are overwhelming, and I'm lost for a long moment in incandescent heat and shattering rapture. Eventually it fades, leaving me floating in a blissful state of euphoria, and I pull out and collapse to the mattress beside him, panting heavily for breath.

When at last I come back to reality, I roll my head on the pillow and look over at Haru, only to find him staring at me with big round eyes. I replay the last moments (blurry though they are) in my head, and suddenly I recall the words I blurted out as I came. My euphoria fades, and despite the comfortable warmth saturating my muscles, I suddenly feel very, very cold.

_Shit._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have finally reached the end. Sort of. I'm afraid it came out a bit angstier than I had planned. (WARNING: MORE ANGST THAN I REALIZED- people have told me they got teary, so do bear that in mind if you don't care for angst.)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far, guys!

Panic hits me hard, twisting in my chest, coiling in my gut. My throat is so tight I can't breathe, and I can feel my heart thudding so hard it feels like it might just jump right out of my chest. I remember this sensation all too well from the first time Haru and I spent the night together. I woke up, and before I knew it I was throwing my clothes on and scurrying out the door, my stomach churning with anxiety. And before that, there was the time I almost kissed him. I freaked out that time too, and wound up barricading myself in my room overnight and then avoiding him for three days.

I'm a coward. Anyone who knows me, knows that. And Haru has a way of stripping away every one of my walls and leaving me open, defenseless, even when he doesn't mean to. It's _terrifying._

I'm jerking upright and scrambling for the edge of the bed before I can stop myself. I didn't mean to blurt out those words, but I can't take them back now. It's too late. He knows. 

All I can do is run.

I don't even manage to stand up before Haru's hand closes on my wrist. His hands are graceful, almost delicate-- hands capable of creating incredible paintings of the ocean at Iwatobi, of calming lost kittens in an almost supernatural way, of mixing ingredients and producing delicious food with a deft competence that I will never possess. His strength is generally in his arms and shoulders and legs, not his hands, but his grip on my wrist right now is like iron, and I can't escape.

Or maybe I just don't want to.

I sit on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, and stare at the floor.

"It's okay." Behind me, his voice is gentle. "It's okay, Mako-chan."

He's said that to me so many times-- about things as trivial as horror movies, or as earth-shaking as the death of a friend-- and it's never failed to make me feel better. Except now. I can't get rid of the panic in my chest, the terrifying sensation that I've cracked myself open, wide open, and shown him a part of me I never meant for him to see. It's not okay. It's not. It's _not._

"I'm going out for a run," I blurt. It's cowardly-- of course it is-- but I need to get the hell out of here, before he reaches his beautiful, graceful hand into my gaping chest and pulls out my heart entirely. 

His fingers tighten on my wrist. "Makoto," he says, and his voice is very calm. "You need to stop running away from me."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk." My head jerks around, and I can feel my lips curling up in a snarl. I don't know why I'm suddenly so pissed, except I'm terrified and I need to run away and he won't let me. I guess anger is the last refuge of the cowardly. "When the two of us fought that one time, you ran all the way to fucking _Australia._ "

He looks at me steadily, unflinchingly. He used to have a tendency to look away from me whenever things got a little uncomfortable between us. I don't remember quite when he began making such unwavering eye contact. But I'm the one whose gaze flickers away now. "Do you want to go to Australia right now, Makoto?"

"I just want to go for a run," I growl. "Let go of me."

"No." He sits up behind me, wincing a little. I know I got a little too rough there at the end, and guilt twines in my chest along with the panic. I'm a ball of swirling, chaotic emotion, everything I feel seething wildly just beneath the surface of my skin, but he looks as unfazed as ever. I suddenly remember how Haru's unearthly calm used to piss Rin off, how he'd deliberately antagonize Haru to get a rise out of him, and right now I understand that reaction all too well. Haru's emotionless mode can be wildly irritating.

Of course I know he's not emotionless, and never has been. But I also know he doesn't love me the way I love him, and that angers me somehow. Which is ridiculous. In a more rational mood, I would accept that Haru can't change the way he feels any more than I can.

I don't feel rational right now, though. I feel bruised and open and raw. 

"Are we going to talk about our _feelings_ now?" I snap. 

"Actually," he says, voice totally impassive, "I just thought we should clean up."

"Of _course._ I should've _known._ Because water fixes everything, doesn't it?" 

He looks at me steadily. I think there's a glimmer of hurt in his eyes at my tone, but I can't be certain of that. The dark of night is settling into the room now, casting everything in twilight. The sunset has faded, and there's nothing filtering through the blinds but the harsh white lights of the city, throwing deep purple shadows across the room.

"If I don't take a hot bath," he says, "I'm going to be sore in the morning."

I know that's true, and some of the irrational, unreasonable anger drains from me. I lower my head and consciously relax my muscles. 

"Okay," I say, drawing in a steadying breath. "Come on, then."

He moves toward the edge of the bed, still hanging onto my wrist. I see him wince again, and I pull out of his grasp and stand up.

I pick him up in my arms, cradling him against my chest, and he stiffens briefly, then relaxes into it, resting his head on my shoulder. He's far from a lightweight, but I can carry him as far as the bathroom easily enough. I do, padding across the tiled floor, and then I turn on the hot water and wait for it to warm up.

He showers off the gunk while I lean on the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell, my hair standing on end, my skin unnaturally pale, big dark circles under my eyes. Apparently, I think with bitter amusement, love doesn't agree with me.

When Haru's finished showering off, I run a bath for him, adding a dollop of bath oil, and he sinks into it with a long sigh of pleasure. He looks at me, lifting an eyebrow in invitation, and I shake my head.

"I'll shower after you're done," I say.

He nods, like he gets it. Like he understands that I can't take any more closeness, any more intimacy tonight. That if I blurt out something stupid again, my heart might just be damaged beyond repair. I can't bear for my feelings to be exposed any more than they already have been, and I can see that Haru understands. Haru always understands. 

I could sit there and enjoy watching Haru soaking in the tub-- a sight I've always appreciated, since long before we were sleeping together-- but instead I walk into my room, strip the sheets, and remake the bed, using the normal, everyday chore to try to get my bearings back, to find my way back onto a steady emotional keel. Part of me, the part that's still pissed off and bitter, wants to tell Haru to sleep in his own damn bed tonight, but I know Haru is like a cat, and he'll do what he wants to do. Anyway, despite my emotional distress, I'm not certain I want him to sleep anywhere but beside me. 

Besides, I know it's stupid of me to be angry with him about this. It's not Haru's fault I have a big mouth. And it's definitely not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way I do. He can't help the way he feels, any more than I do.

By the time I'm done remaking the bed, I hear the water gurgling out of the tub, and I'm surprised. It's not like Haru to take less than an hour in the bath. But I guess he figures I need to get cleaned up, too. A moment later he wanders in, casually naked, toweling off his hair.

"Feel better?" I say.

"Yeah," he says. "I feel good, actually. Take a shower, Makoto. I'll make dinner."

I nod, and disappear into the bathroom without another word.

The shower feels good on my skin. Sex, I am beginning to realize, is a messy business. Not just the obvious, either-- I mean, the gunk and everything is kind of gross to clean up afterwards, but besides that, I think I sweat more during sex than I do when I go out for a several-kilometer run. I'm disgusting all over, and grateful for the hot water and soap that make me feel halfway human again.

By the time I'm dressed, I can smell wonderful odors emanating from the kitchen. I was a little worried Haru would go for mackerel again, but instead he's made green curry, my favorite comfort food. I walk into the kitchen to find him ladeling it into bowls. He hands me one.

"Thanks," I say, and sit down at the table. He sits across from me, and I find myself avoiding his gaze, staring instead at the plants in the middle of the table, the ones we transplanted into a single pot. The ivy and the hyacinth, growing together in the same soil. The ivy, I notice, is already beginning to twine around the hyacinth.

Plants, I think glumly, have it so easy. They just wind themselves together, and don't have to worry about messy, complex stuff like emotions. Being a plant must be a very uncomplicated existence.

It occurs to me that Haru and I used to be a lot like that. I mean, we almost never argued. We were just together all the time, doing the same things, sharing the same food, reading the same books, swimming in the same pool. It was easy and simple and natural.

But then we came to Tokyo. Or maybe we just grew up. And things got complicated.

"It's good," I say, more because it's polite than because I'm actually enjoying the food. Ordinarily I love Haru's green curry, but right now food, any food, just tastes like dust to me. "One of these days you'll have to teach me how to make it."

"I don't know if I can do that," he says, a faint smile curving his mouth. "Your mom never managed to teach you how to cook, so I doubt I can."

"You're pretty good at teaching me stuff," I say. "I mean... I've figured out a lot of stuff about myself this week, Haru. And it's all because of you."

He lifts an eyebrow. "What have you figured out?"

I'm sorry I started this conversation, but having begun, I struggle to make myself understood. "It's a little hard to explain. But I've discovered there's all these, I don't know, shadows inside me. Dark things. And this week I've started to figure out that maybe they're not all that bad. That they're even kind of... necessary. I mean... shadows aren't there in the darkness, you know? Only in the light."

He nods, like I'm making perfect sense instead of rambling on about stuff that can't be properly put into words. "Everyone has shadows inside them, Makoto."

"I guess so, yeah. But I didn't really understand that until recently." I remember his voice: _It's just the two of us, Mako-chan. You can say anything you want to me._ "I, uh, guess I didn't realize how much sex was going to occupy my brain. But I also didn't realize it could be so... fun. You taught me that it's fun, Haru."

"It's fun," he agrees. "But it's also a little more than fun, sometimes."

The words I blurted out hang heavy in the air between us, and I sigh. I can't run away from this. Not this time. "Look, Haru, about what I said-- I'm sorry."

He eats his last bite of curry, then pushes his bowl aside and gazes at me. His eyes are the exact same blue as the hyacinth I bought him, and right now they look just as soft as the petals do. "Why are you sorry?"

I push my bowl aside too. I've only eaten half of it, but I am just not hungry right now. "I didn't mean to say it like that. I didn't mean to say it at all."

"I'm glad you did. Like you said to me once, you ought to be able to talk to your friend. And we are friends, Makoto. No matter what."

I want to be more than friends, more than sex buddies, but I realize I can't push him into that. I nod.

"Yeah, Haru. No matter what." More than anything, I want to put things back on a normal footing between us, so I wave at the table. "I'll wash up the dishes if you'll dry. And then maybe we can watch a movie?"

"Good idea," says Haru.

*****

After the movie-- some goofy science fiction thing I only half register-- things feel like they've stabilized between us. I'm not totally freaking out anymore, at least, and Haru seems pretty relaxed. I feel like there's something going on in his head, some deep current running beneath the still waters, but I know him, and I know I won't hear about it till he's ready to talk about it.

Anyway, just like I figured, I couldn't kick him out of my bed if I wanted to. And I don't want to, not really. We head for bed pretty early, because we both have morning classes, and Haru just pads after me into my bedroom, strips off all his clothes, and curls up with me like it's the usual thing. I guess it is, now.

In the darkness, I spoon with him, curling my body protectively around his. Both of us are naked in the cool night air, but neither of us tries anything. I'm very conscious that he's probably still kind of sore, so I'm certainly not going to make a move on him, even if he does feel warm and sexy and pretty damn irresistible in my arms.

I'm half asleep when I hear his voice, soft and low.

"Mako-chan?"

"Hmmm. Yeah?"

"I wish I could say it back to you."

 _Ahhh, God, Haru, I love you._ Those words are still hanging between us, separating us, even when we're cuddled up so closely we're practically one person. I heave a sigh, pressing my face into his hair. "It's okay, Haru. Don't worry about it."

"I mean..." He rolls over and nuzzles into my chest. "I do care about you. I've always cared about you an awful lot. But I'm not sure I feel the same way about you that you feel about me. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," I say with another sigh. "It does."

And the painful part is that it does make sense. Of course Haru loves me, in a way. We've been closer than family all our lives. I've never doubted that I'm one of the most important people in his world, but that's not quite the kind of overpowering, all-encompassing love I feel for him. Even adding our undeniable sexual attraction to the mix doesn't necessarily make it that sort of love, not on his side of the equation. It just makes us... 

Hell, I don't know what it makes us. Friends with benefits, maybe. 

"How do you know?" he murmurs into my throat. "How can you tell?"

I tighten my arms around him and hold him close. "It's not that complicated," I say, thinking of the ivy and the hyacinth, twining together so naturally, so simply, as if two growing into one is the easiest thing in the world. "You just... know."

"I don't think I understand how to love someone the way you do," he says, his voice muffled, almost choked. "Maybe... maybe you can teach me."

I run a hand through his hair, enjoying the softness of it. "There are some things you have to learn for yourself, Haru," I say, very gently. "I think maybe this is one of them."

"What if I can't?" He's clinging to me now, like he's the ivy. "What if I'm just not capable of it? I--I've always been different, Makoto. I'm not sure I feel things the way normal people do."

"Haru. Stop it. You're normal, and you feel stuff just like everyone else does."

"I'm not normal." He sounds close to tears, and I can feel the tension in his body. "I'm not the same as everyone else. I'm _weird._ I've always-- I've always been weird..."

His voice trails off into strangled silence. I remember the whispers of _there goes that Weird Kid,_ and in that moment I want to go back to Iwatobi and punch out every single person who ever muttered ugly things like that about Haru. I remember the looks of disgust his father was always giving him, and I think I'd like to punch him out too. I'm only beginning to realize how much Haru is scarred from those whispers. Those looks. That word.

"You're normal for Haru-chan," I say, stroking his back, trying to ease the taut muscles beneath his silken skin. "You'll figure it out, trust me. If not with me, then with someone else. Somewhere in the world, there's someone you can love that way, Haru."

I must have said the right thing, because his body slowly begins to relax against mine, and his breathing begins to steady. He's silent for so long I think he's fallen asleep. At last he whispers into my chest, so softly I can barely hear him.

"I can't imagine it being anyone but you, Mako-chan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a little more angsty than I meant it to! Sorry, but the characters go where they want to go, and I just write it all down. It became evident to me that Haru needed a little more time to think about this, and that can't be shown properly from Makoto's POV. And that means... a sequel *hides from angry readers*. The sequel will be called "Trust."
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! I really appreciate it. You guys are keeping me writing!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as gemwrites.
> 
> Edit: The sequel "Trust" is now completed.


End file.
